


Silent Night

by liketolaugh



Series: Conflict of Interest [4]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Fluff, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Link and Allen both have their nightmares. They deal with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Night

_Link couldn’t breathe. The dust in the air was so dense that he choked on it; his eyes were narrowed against the particles that made them water, and the force of his coughs nearly caused him to stumble and fall._

_Around him, he could hear the sound of akuma firing and people crying out as they met their deaths, but he couldn’t see anything. He just felt the dust around his ankles, rising higher and higher as more people, citizens and CROWs and perhaps even exorcists, crumbled under the assault._

_He thrust his hand out blindly, calling on Binding Wings, on Fire Wings, on any spell he had, but he was out of tags – he was helpless, unarmed, and there was nothing he could do._

_But none of the akuma fired on him._

_The dust, fine and heavy, fell around his calves, and he struggled to cut through it, looking for anything, anyone – he surely wasn’t alone. He could still hear the screams and sobs of terrified citizens, the yells of his fellow CROW, and he thought that- that he could just make out Allen’s voice, too._

_But for all the voices in the air – now with Allen’s, he heard Madarao’s and Tewaku’s and Kiredori’s and more voices, voices he knew – he couldn’t make out any words. All of them were muffled by the swirling fog that the akuma left instead of corpses._

_The dust climbed to his knees, and he choked on the air, doubling over as he coughed. He couldn’t breathe, and he wanted to call out, but he couldn’t._

_The dust settled around his stomach._

_Around his elbows._

_It was becoming harder to breathe._

_The dust, it was going to- it was around his neck, and he shut his eyes, because he had mere moments before it rose over his head-_

“Link?”

Link’s eyes snapped open and he gasped for breath, jerking in surprise. The hand that was curled around his shoulder started to let go, before abruptly holding tighter.

It took Link a moment before his surroundings made sense to him. The air was clear. His bedsheets, though tangled around him, did not restrict his breathing. The light was dim but clear; he could even see its source, the crescent moon shining through the window. Allen was leaning over him, washed out in the night light, the soft cast of anxiety dominating his expression.

It was Allen’s hand, the left one, which held his shoulder. Link took a deep breath, unashamedly relishing in the clarity, and pushed himself up. Allen let go, but crouched down so he was level with Link, worry adding itself to the unease already present on his face.

“Allen,” Link murmured, reaching up to rub a hand over his face. Anything more he might have said stuck in his chest, but the rush of relief was heady, the tension from his nightmare draining out of him.

“Were you having a nightmare?” Allen asked softly, tilting his head.

Link nodded absently and, without even thinking about it, reached for Allen’s hand. Allen took it easily and shifted to sit beside him, and Link’s breathing started to ease at the feeling of Allen’s warmth beside him, the younger male resting their intertwined hands on his leg.

“Nothing important,” he muttered belatedly, lifting his gaze to meet Allen’s. “I apologize if I woke you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” Allen assured him, squeezing his hand. “D-do you want to go back to sleep?”

Link didn’t even have to think about it before shaking his head. “Not particularly. You should, however.” He tried to give Allen a stern look. “You have work to do.”

Link, disoriented as he was, barely caught the flash of fear in Allen’s eyes before the boy smiled at him. “I can work with a little less sleep,” Allen said firmly.

Link’s brow furrowed, his brown eyes starting to search Allen’s, and Allen’s smile vanished like a candle in the wind. Link felt Allen squeeze his hand again, the boy never breaking his gaze, and then Allen asked,

“Do you want to go to the kitchen? I can make hot chocolate.”

Link studied him a moment longer, and then his expression softened and he nodded, a faint, tired smile curving his lips. “That sounds wonderful,” he admitted, releasing Allen’s hand to stand up. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back to sleep?”

Allen nodded quickly, standing up after him. “I’m sure,” Allen reassured him, and in another moment, Allen’s fingers had tangled with his again and Allen was tugging him gently toward the door. Link followed willingly enough, gently kicking the door shut behind them. Then, quietly, Allen added, “I wouldn’t leave you alone to stay awake all night.”

Link blew out a breath, unwilling to admit his own relief – or his gratitude. “Your own nightmares keep you up often enough as it is,” he argued halfheartedly.

Allen laughed at him lightly. “It won’t kill me to do it again, then,” he said, and then, “Have I told you how wonderful you look with your hair down?”

Allen was _unfair._

“You’ve mentioned it,” Link mumbled, trying and failing to keep the pink out of his cheeks.

Allen smiled at him, silver eyes gleaming softly in the near-darkness of the hall, and, as they drew to a brief halt by the kitchen doorway, leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, though he missed slightly so he was almost at Link’s hairline. “It’s true,” Allen murmured by Link’s ear, and then drew away to open the door while Link was trying to muster a response.

Once they were inside, Allen finally let go of Link’s hand and crossed the room to look for the ingredients, while Link flicked the lights on and studied him for a moment, silent and soft, while he moved around getting things from cupboards and a couple of mugs – while Allen never made hot chocolate just for himself, he always had a cup when he made it for someone else.

He looked ethereal, Link thought, in the dim candlelight. It danced over his hair and made him glow like a ghost, and the slight sheen of his Innocence hand was clearer when it was dark, while his eyes looked brighter and warmer than ever. He looked beautiful, and Link only wished he had the words to tell him so.

“Mana taught me this recipe,” Allen said suddenly, startling Link. Allen cast him a quick glance and a smile, and then continued, “He was a terrible cook, really, but he could make this. He used to make it when I had a bad dream, or when it was cold. He even made it for me when I was sick, even though it made me cough. He insisted it made me feel better inside, which was what counted.” He laughed a little. “He was probably right.”

Quite aside from being a welcome distraction from his own demons, Link was always startled when Allen mentioned Mana, and this was an unusual amount of detail. Something about it nagged at him, but he ignored it in favor of asking, only half in jest, “Is that why you won’t teach me the recipe?”

Allen cast him a teasing smile, setting the mixed powders aside to pour some warmed milk into the mugs. “Well, it’s the only thing I can make that you can’t. I have to keep some hold over you.”

“I suppose I’ll let it pass,” Link murmured, unable to help the fond smile on his face. “Since it’s a family recipe.”

Allen gave him another, much brighter smile – it was there and gone too quickly, but the sincere delight in his eyes took Link’s breath away in a much more pleasant manner than the dream of earlier, and Link had no trouble returning it.

Allen looked away only to stir the mix into the milk, and, with a satisfied hum, set the spoon aside and picked up both mugs, carrying them over to Link and handing him one, which Link accepted with a grateful smile, though he felt much better, already, than he had when he first woke up.

Allen smiled back, soft and understanding, and then briefly set his own mug aside to hoist himself onto the counter. Link himself settled for leaning against it and wondered vaguely why Allen felt the need to emphasize his increased height so.

For a moment, both of them were quiet, and Link took a moment to close his eyes and savor the taste – Allen really did make unreasonably good hot chocolate, smooth and rich, and pleasantly warm as it travelled through him to settle into his stomach.

It was Allen who broke it, setting his mug down again to reach and tug gently at a lock of Link’s hair, freeing it from the rest.

“Do you mind if I brush your hair when we go back to the room?” Allen asked. Link could feel him twirling it around his finger, gradual and gentle. “Only if you don’t want to go back to sleep, of course.”

“Why?” Link asked without thinking, frowning slightly. When he felt Allen’s hand still, he clarified, “I don’t mind at all, but why?”

Allen relaxed behind him, hand resuming the gentle twist-untwist motion. “I like the way it feels. It’s soft and lovely.” He tugged it teasingly, too light to hurt. “And it’s such a nice color.”

Link felt himself blushing again, once again without words, and Allen chuckled slightly. Both of them went quiet again, and Allen’s other hand joined the first playing with Link’s hair, moving gradually from rubbing it between his fingers up to stroke slowly through it, and then over to rub gently just behind Link’s ear, then tweaking the lobe with the unusually textured fingertips of his left hand.

Then Allen started talking again. “You know, Lenalee told me she used to play with Kanda’s hair when he would let her. If I asked her, she might tell me some of the things she used to do. It’ll be funny, if nothing else, because I just can’t imagine-”

Link frowned, something about Allen’s actions bothering him. A moment later, it clicked, and his frown deepened. He reached back to bat Allen’s hands away, and Allen withdrew them without argument. Link half-twisted to look at Allen, and after a few moments of intense staring, Allen’s words petered off to a halt, and he tilted his head in question.

“You didn’t know that I was having a nightmare, did you?” Link asked at last, setting his mug down on the counter and wondering, not for the first time, why so many of his observational skills vanished around Allen.

Allen, like Link himself, had many nightmares, but there was only one – Link was sure it was the same one – that he would wake Link after. It was probably only Link’s disorientation from his own nightmare that had kept him from realizing it sooner.

Allen stilled, his gaze flicking to Link’s and staying there, and then, silently, he shook his head.

Link sighed, and then pulled himself onto the counter to sit beside Allen, legs pressed together, and took Allen’s hand as Allen had taken his earlier, setting it on his leg.

“Drink your hot chocolate,” Link told him, and then, quieter, “I wish you’d said something.”

Allen gave him a faint smile and a small shrug, picking up his mug obediently. “It didn’t matter,” he murmured against the rim.

“Of course it does,” Link disagreed, watching Allen drink.

“Yours was worse,” Allen said after a moment, lowering the mug clasped in his left hand.

That was unlikely. Link’s was terrible, yes, and he was grateful to be thinking of anything but dust, but this particular nightmare of Allen’s tended to leave him out-of-sorts all day, especially if he chose to ride out the aftermath himself instead of waking Link. Link didn’t know what the nightmare consisted of – Allen had never told him, and Link had never asked – but Allen was always even more tactile than usual afterward, and intolerant of silence – to the point of saying things he might not otherwise in order to fill it. Considering how private he was normally, it made Link wonder.

He chose not to argue the matter, however, and instead kept talking, Allen’s hand firmly in his. “Does the Bookman Apprentice know about Lenalee’s old endeavors? It seems like the sort of thing he’d appreciate.”

Allen’s smile brightened even as his eyes gleamed with relief. “I don’t know. Maybe we should tell him.”

“I think that would be a bad idea,” Link murmured, but didn’t otherwise object.

“It would be funny,” countered Allen, leaning against him slightly. Allen took a sip of his drink, and then continued, “He’d tease Kanda about it, and then Kanda could kill him instead of us.”

“Sometimes I wonder about your deviousness,” Link told him, shaking his head even as he smiled, and Allen grinned at him.

“You know you love it,” he teased. Link _knew_ he was teasing, but his smile softened anyway.

“I love _you,”_ he murmured, and surprise flashed across Allen’s eyes for a brief moment before his entire countenance warmed, and the younger male leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too,” Allen replied, honesty dropping from each word.

Link smiled, soft and warm and helpless, and kept talking, knowing that Allen was listening. “Lenalee would know who told Lavi, you do realize-”


End file.
